


Anchor up to me, love

by OtterAndTerrier



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, Post-RotJ, although using some stuff for worldbuilding, hopefully not too much but enough, not compliant with any canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 16:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterAndTerrier/pseuds/OtterAndTerrier
Summary: 'Last time we talked about it, you said it was too soon to think about it. And that I could ask you sometime, if I still felt the same way, and you’d say yes.'- Han. Leia. A rock. Not the rock you think, but kind of.





	Anchor up to me, love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the **2017 Han/Leia Week** with the prompt "Home".
> 
> This is my own post-RotJ ‘verse, but some worldbuilding elements were borrowed from the new material. I also borrowed [this beautiful headcanon on Corellian love stones](http://rogueandjedi.tumblr.com/post/161226667834). There are references to [Until we get there](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8319787), but you don’t have to read it to understand this.
> 
> Many thanks to **imnothere24** for making necessary corrections and being the nicest, most supporting _salope_ ;)

Bent over her desk inside her private office, Leia rubbed the back of her strained neck, her fingers catching on the baby hairs of her nape.

For the thousandth time that morning, her eyes left the datapad she was carefully examining and shifted to the hologram projected in front of her as she leaned back in her chair. More than zealotry for her job, what she felt was a sense of irreality, a mix of  _ I can’t believe this is happening _ with  _ this is finally happening _ .

The end of the war and the definitive restoration of the Republic had thrown her back to her original role as the leader of Alderaan (in spirit, at least) and their representative in the newly restored Senate. Her planet might be gone, but not all of her people were—in part, thanks to her efforts. They had been living in a flotilla for the past five years, hidden and protected by some of Leia’s closest allies until not long ago, when being hunted by the Empire was no longer a threat. Then, they had returned to what was left of home.

There had been some dissent about it, but that was what they had ultimately chosen, claiming that that part of the galaxy still belonged to them, that they couldn’t resettle Alderaan anywhere but in the Alderaan Sector.

Leia hadn’t been there yet, not since the Death Star. The thought made her physically ill. But she might have to, soon. What she was studying was the schematics for a space station that would serve as home for the diaspora, built with the remains of the first Death Star. That was another choice that had shaken her when it was first proposed to her.

_ This isn’t about you; it’s about them _ , she had been forced to tell herself.  _ The best way you can serve them is by listening to their needs and wishes _ .

Still, Leia wished she could offer them something better than scraps.

Her speaker crackled and her assistant’s voice came through. ‘General—sorry,  _ Captain _ Solo is here to see you.’

Leia barely managed to say, ‘Let him in, Thea,’ before the door to her office swished open. She looked up with a smile to see Han sauntering through the door.

‘Hi, sweetheart. Came by to see if you wanted to take a break for lunch,’ he said, hoisting up the bag packed with boxes and bottles that he carried on one hand.

As if awakened by the promise of food, her stomach growled. ‘Sure, that would be wonderful.’

But Han didn’t seem to hear her: his eyes were fixed on the luminous image projected above her desk as he came closer. He took one look at her face and asked, ‘This is it? For Alderaan?’

Leia nodded. He’d heard all about it from her, of course, had listened to her pouring her heart out just for him, lamenting that she couldn’t give her people mountains, and lakes, and forests, and had instead to petition that they be given the discarded junk of the weapon that had turned their home to dust.

‘Looks nice,’ Han said now, stepping next to her. ‘Solid.’

‘Yeah. At least it’s not round.’

Han chuckled dryly.

‘Let me clear this,’ Leia said, turning off the holoprojector and beginning to stack her datapads into a corner. Han laid a hand on her arm to still her movements.

‘I was thinking of taking this down to the Lanii Gardens, if you’re up to it.’ He gave her a crooked grin. ‘Don’t really feel like being shut in here, and I thought you’d like to get out.’

Leia gave him a funny look. ‘You want to go to the gardens?’

‘Unless you’d rather we go to the  _ Falcon _ ,’ Han offered, leaning back against her desk and giving her a suggestive wink. 

‘You know I don’t have that much time, hotshot,’ Leia said, standing and tilting her head upwards for a kiss. Han sighed exaggeratedly and gave her a peck.

‘Lanii, then. Tell me if you change your mind on the way.’

* * *

They drove to the gardens in Han’s airspeeder, a brand-new, sporty-looking vehicle that he’d recently acquired. He’d been nonchalant about it, but Leia knew he’d never owned anything like it in his life. It made her proud and happy to see how much he had accomplished, how much his circumstances had changed from when she’d first met him, and what he had made of them. And of course, she was happy to be part of those changes, part of his life as he was part of hers.

Keeping with the general spirit of Chandrila, the Lanii Gardens were a natural refuge not far from the Senate building that, at least in appearance, lacked the artifice of technology: the fountains that fed small ponds came from natural springs; the benches and tables that sat in little nooks were made from wood or stone and planted firmly on the earth; the botanical life that grew in colourful patterns on flower beds and next to the path were native specimens from all over the planet. It made for a wonderful break from one’s office or classroom and, as such, many beings chose to go there for lunch. It wasn’t as crowded as during the weekend, though, so Han and Leia were able to park the speeder and stroll through the park uninterrupted, until they came across one of the vacant trellised rest areas and sat down on the single bench.

Extracting the food containers from the bag, Leia placed them between herself and Han on the bench and inhaled deeply as she opened the lids, taking in the mouth-watering scents.

‘Mm, Ivarujari. Good choice.’

‘Figured you’d be in the mood,’ Han said, passing her a set of utensils.

The late hour and the quality of the food made Leia leave the conversation in Han’s charge, listening and nodding as he talked about the quirks of his latest client. Though it had meant a great deal to her that he had finally accepted a military commission within the Alliance, Leia knew Han was not cut for that career. If his resignation had been shocking, it was due to the irregularity of its manner, not because she wouldn’t have seen it coming, sooner or later. After a short period of not quite knowing where he fit in and adapting to the novelty of settling down with Leia, he had begun to take shipments again, only this time, he was on the right side of the law. Old habits being hard to break, she heard him gripe about taxes and restrictions—although even he had to admit that it wasn’t as bad as under the rule of the Empire—or lack of adrenaline. It was a business he knew well, though, and he appreciated the financial security of it, the benefits of legality, the fact that his buyers weren’t likely to have him killed. In sum, Leia listened to him complaining about shipping the way he listened to her grouching over the Senate: with the absolute certainty that it was something that filled a part of themselves.

Today, Han seemed distracted, losing his train of thought in the middle of sentences, suddenly frowning at himself and staring off into space. He was also unusually fidgety, shifting his legs every few minutes or flicking the lid of his food container at random. After a lull in the conversation and observing many such occurrences, Leia asked, ‘Is there anything wrong?’

‘No,’ Han said, looking up with a start. ‘What? No, nothing wrong. Anything wrong with you?’

‘No,’ Leia said, staring at him with suspicion. Was he hiding something from her? ‘Okay, then.’

She took a sip of her Jogan juice, still watching Han closely. He was wearing the leather jacket she had bought him for his birthday, and… in fact, all of his clothing seemed to be some of the new pieces he’d recently bought, which was odd. He couldn’t have spent the morning working on the Falcon dressed like that. He had let her trim his hair yesterday, so he looked exceptionally tidy.

Bumping the sole of his booted foot, currently resting on his knee, with the toe of her shoe, Leia said, ‘You look very handsome today. Got a date later?’

Han let out a short laugh and Leia grinned: she loved causing such a genuine reaction from him. 

‘Hell, I don’t know. Maybe. If I’m lucky,’ he answered, grinning back at her.

Again, she furrowed her brow even as she smiled to mark the strange comment. Was he going to propose they go on a date that night?

‘If you’re lucky, huh?’ Leia commented, picking up a noodle. ‘Why are you being so weird about it, flyboy, just ask me.’

Han looked taken aback for a moment; she could have laughed at the way the skin between his eyebrows creased and his jaw hung a little, and then—

A sort of resolve seemed to come upon him and he gave the tiniest nod.

‘All right. Think you wanna marry me now, Princess?’

Leia’s noodle dropped back into the box. ‘What?’

Maybe it was because the roles had reversed and now it was Leia gawking at Han, but he didn’t look nervous any longer; his eyes were fixed on hers with a sudden intensity that almost made her shiver.

‘Last time we talked about it, you said it was too soon to think about it,’ Han said, leaving his food container behind him on the bench and scooting closer to Leia. ‘And that I could ask you sometime, if I still felt the same way, and you’d say yes. Remember that night? In the lake?’

‘Of course,’ Leia said softly. Of course she remembered. They had been on a mission barely a month after Endor and everything had been going so great, it had been hard to remember they were still fighting a war. That was until Leia’s attempts to reassure Han that they didn’t need to get married had backfired and made him think that she didn’t believe he’d  _ want _ to marry her.

‘Well, you don’t have to say yes,’ Han said. ‘But I’m asking, now.’

So that was it. The hair, the clothes, the polished boots. Suggesting they have lunch at the gardens. Suddenly a lot of seemingly random conversations between them during the past weeks came to the front of her mind. He was asking her to marry him without any fanfare, because he knew that shows were for the public part of Leia’s life, not the private, and he wasn’t good at shows anyway, yet he had chosen a beautiful place to surprise her in the middle of her day, break the routine he was asking to secure, presented himself as less scoundrelly not because she minded, but to show her that he’d put effort into this, that it wasn’t an afterthought, that he wanted it to be special—but not too special, in case she said  _ hey, I think we’re fine the way we are, but thanks _ .

Mirroring Han’s earlier actions, Leia left her empty boxes behind her and smoothed the skirt of her dress.

‘Han… you know I love you,’ she started, folding her hands together to keep them from shaking—because stars, she felt as if her entire body was vibrating; she vaguely wondered if she should worry—keeping control of her voice, too. ‘I’m committed to you, and you—you make me happier than I thought I could ever be.’

She took a deep breath and felt a smile spreading from ear to ear as she said, ‘Yes, I want to marry you.’

Han sagged in visible relief, making her recall another time when he’d looked expectantly for her answer, once in a forest moon, under the fireworks of a Death Star. Fireworks were what she felt now, again, as he drew her close and kissed her, arms around her waist, her fingers threading his hair when she pulled his head even closer, and then she remembered they were in a public place and she hadn’t wanted a show…

‘Now that you said yes,’ Han said, his voice a little husky after they broke apart, ‘I can give you this.’

He withdrew a small box from one of his pockets and handed it to her. Leia imagined it would be a piece of jewelry, like it was customary in most Core planets, but it was too heavy. When she opened the box, she found an uncut stone the size of her fist sitting in its velvety recesses.

Uncertain, but not wanting to sound rude, she looked up at Han and said, ‘Thank you. I’m not sure… what should I…?’

‘That’s a Corellian love stone.’ He made a face before continuing, as if to counteract the saccharinity of the concept. ‘It’s a really old tradition… you know most Corellians are spacers, but before that, a lot were sailors. Houses had stone hearths back then, so when you wanted to settle down with someone, show them you’d always come back, you’d give them a stone. For the hearth—so, uh, the  _ heart _ —of their home.’

He cleared his throat loudly. ‘Of course that today it’s just symbolic; you can put it in a display case or even cut it up for a piece of jewelry, so… whatever you want to do, really.’

Leia brushed a finger over the rough surface of the rock, which had some iridescent spots and sparkly bits.

‘Thank you,’ she repeated in a whisper full of emotion.

_ The heart of our home. _

They had been living together for the past fourteen months, sharing their lives for the last five years, not always in the same place, but always coming back to each other. They had already made a home for themselves, and she knew this was permanent; she didn’t need a paper to secure Han’s commitment. Or a rock. But he wanted this, with her, and she did too. A marriage. Solid, unbreakable. Pulling them back to land, to a piece of galaxy they could call their own, like the survivors of Alderaan had said.

Wherever they could build a life together, she would drop anchor and be home.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Homecoming](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17454806) by [OtterAndTerrier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterAndTerrier/pseuds/OtterAndTerrier)




End file.
